How Do You Love Your ADHD Kids When They Are Such Dopes?

Before motherhood, my life was pretty easy.  I didn’t know it was easy at the time, but I enjoyed school, and I studied hard.  I felt pretty good about myself. I thought I was a smart, hard-working, patient, kind, easy-going kind of girl.

Then I had children.  I realized I knew nothing.  I certainly wasn’t patient.  Work?  What’s that? When I was a student I was in a writing lab one night dying about a paper I had to get done.  One of my professors came in to write.    I was whining a little.  She said to me, “What are you talking about?  This is my break.”  (She had three young children at home.)  I thought that professor was crazy, but now I totally get her.

Love?  That’s what has been tested the most, especially this week.  It is my fifth value I will have in my mission statement.  It’s funny how everybody talks about All You Need Is Love and Love Conquers All and it gives you this warm fuzzy feeling inside, like it’s an easy thing and all.   No one tells you how much work it can be sometimes.  I have not been very loving to one of my sons.  He has ADHD and does not follow through with anything.  If I ask him to take some of his laundry upstairs (that I’ve already hung up for him), I find them thrown on the floor.  When I tell him to put Deborah’s toys away, I find them on the floor.   His brothers call him Half-Way because he gets things half way where they need to go.  I once asked him to take a pair of sandals to a girl who live around the corner from us.  When I went on a walk later in the afternoon, I found those sandals on the sidewalk, half-way between her house and our house. 

I have been short with him all week.  I haven’t said very nice things to him.  Yes, I feel a little bad, but I feel mostly mad.  I had one sweet moment with him yesterday.  I wish I could say that things got better after that, but they didn’t.  Still, it was a moment.

I took Deborah outside in the backyard yesterday hoping she could amuse herself while I read a book.  Not Deborah.  She’s a high-maintenance girl.  But Davy came and saved the day.  He was my little super hero. 

He pulled her around in the wagon.  Around and around.  He gave me a much needed break.  Then he took her out to the front drive-way.  Then I got nervous.  But this is what I found:

Then I actually did something right.  I praised him.  “What a great helper you are!”  I guess I should do that a little more often.



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